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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977916">Drabbles &amp; Ficlets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NessRealta/pseuds/NessRealta'>NessRealta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:00:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NessRealta/pseuds/NessRealta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and ficlets set in Middle Earth</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aragorn | Estel &amp; Bilbo Baggins, Aragorn | Estel &amp; Halbarad, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Departure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for the 2015 July Fixed-Lenght-Ficlet-Challenge on lotr_community on LJ.</p><p>Rating: G<br/>Theme: Arrivals and Departures<br/>Elements: 222</p><p>Author's Notes: Part I. I decided to write two stories for this challenge, one departure and one arrival, and they belong together.<br/>I assume that in the time between the Council of Elrond and the departure of the Nine Walkers Aragorn at some point went back to the Angle.</p><p>Summary: Halbarad watches Aragorn depart for the Quest.<br/>Word Count: 222</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A quick embrace, a nod, and then Aragorn was gone, a dark fleck against the pale winter dawn. In this <span>the parting had not been so</span> <span>very </span><span>different from </span><span>all the </span><span>others in the past, </span><span>Halbarad thought.</span> <span>T</span><span>here </span><span>had been</span><span> no need for many words; neither of them were in favour of long-drawn-out </span><span>farewells</span><span>.</span> <span>All that needed to be said </span><span>had been said </span><span>last evening</span><span>. </span><em>And that </em><em>is </em><em>one thing that </em><em>makes it different. </em><em>I suppose </em><em>he </em><em>can't be the Heir of </em><em>Isildur</em><em>, </em><em>going to meet his destiny, </em><em>taking</em><em> part in deciding t</em><em>he fate of Middle-earth </em><em>and just </em><em>disappear </em><em>like usual</em><em>.</em><span> So much depended on the </span><span>Q</span><span>uest that Aragorn </span><span>was embarking upon. </span><em>A dark and perilous road. </em><span>One part of </span><span>Halbarad</span><span> wished that he could go with hi</span><span>s kinsman – </span><em>for</em><em> have we not earned the right to stand with our chieftain when he at last claims the winged crown, we, </em><em>the Dúnedain of the North, </em><em>who </em><em>were ever faithful, fighting the Darkness </em><em>for generations </em><em>– </em><span>but </span><span>he</span> <span>reasoned that he would do </span><span>Aragorn</span><span> better service by</span><span> staying behind and </span><span>defending the Angle best as he could. </span><em>'Twas not my decision </em><em>to make</em><em>, </em><em>at any rate, </em><em>nor his. </em><span>There were bigger powers at work, now, and greater minds </span><span>moving the pieces</span><span>. </span><span>Still, the wish remained. </span><em>To face the upcoming </em><em>storm </em><em>to</em><em>gether, </em><em>for friendship's sake.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was written for the 2015 July Fixed-Lenght-Ficlet-Challenge of lotr_community on LJ.</p><p>Rating: G<br/>Theme: Arrivals and Departures<br/>Elements: 222</p><p>Author's Notes: Part II. I decided to write two stories for this challenge, one departure and one arrival, and they belong together.</p><p>'Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild, hunters – but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy;' Aragorn, FOTR, The Council of Elrond</p><p>'I am Strider and Dúnadan too, and I belong both to Gondor and the North.' Aragorn, TT, Flotsam and Jetsam<br/>Summary: Aragorn ponders the arrival of the Grey Company.</p><p>Word Count: 222</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had not summoned them. The Dúnedain of the North, <span>led by </span><span>the one who was his </span><span>closest friend</span><span>. </span><span>Riding with them </span><span>through the Rohan night, </span><span>his foster-brothers. </span>Often in those last few days Aragorn's thoughts had strayed to them, during lonely watches and on the eve of battle. Selfish he had thought himself to be then, to wish for their company just for friendship's sake when their swords were needed elsewhere. But in the end the summons had not been his decision, and, free from that responsibility, he was glad for the arrival of his kin. <em>The dark road ahead seem</em><em>s</em><em> a little brighter for it</em>. <span>Moreover, </span><span>who could deny the Rangers, </span><span>hunters </span><span>ever </span><span>of the </span><span>servants of the </span><span>Enemy,</span> <span>the righ</span><span>t</span><span> – </span><em>or the curse</em><span> – </span><span>to </span><span>accompany </span><span>the Heir of Isildur?</span> <em>For </em><em>though</em> <em>I return </em><em>to Minas Tirith </em><em>with Elendil's sword forged anew, I belo</em><em>n</em><em>g both to Godor and the North. </em><span>He looked at Halbarad riding </span><span>at his side</span><span>, </span><span>bearing the furled standar</span><span>d</span><span>. Long years they had fought together against the Darkness. There was trust and understanding between them that didn't need many words. </span><span>Alt</span><span>hough </span><span>the</span><span> uncertainty about choosing the right path still weighed heavily upon him, </span><span>Aragorn</span><span> felt </span><span>a little </span><span>more at ease</span><span>. </span><em>For whatever will </em><em>chance</em><em>, </em><em>and be it the ending of the world, </em><em>we will face it together. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sea Longing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Legolas beholds the sea at night</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sea is calling out to me. Waves are whispering, weaving dreams. Moonlight is turning the water into beaten silver, ancient mithril bestowed with spells. Spelling me, for westwards my heart now is yearning. Far across the water I would sail: the cry of the seagull, bearer of promises, is beckoning.</p><p>Waves are endlessly kissing the strand, then leaping back again. The gleaming water is stretching out indefinitely towards the horizon, meeting the cloudless indigo sky. Amongst the glittering stars now sails Eärendil, the mariner, he who once crossed the sea.</p><p>I stand watching, mesmerized, lost in thought and time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lothlórien</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Arwen returns to Lórien after Aragorn's death she remembers a happier time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was written for the 2015 November Challenge of lotr_community on LJ.</p><p>Rating: G<br/>Theme: Nostalgia<br/>Elements: happy<br/>Word Count: 100</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unshod I walk among niphedril and elanor<br/>as we did together once, laughing, many years ago.</p><p>Now my feet are cold and there is nothing but silence.</p><p>Here in fair Lórien I beheld you anew. I made my choice, gladly.</p><p>A season of happiness:<br/>you were full of mirth, a light in your eyes.</p><p>It was a carefree time. Spring turning to summer: hope and new life in abundance.</p><p>Like a dream it seemed and yet not so. For I could feel your hand touching mine.</p><p>When we were walking under the star-lit sky on Cerin Amroth<br/>my heart rejoiced.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Realization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aragorn's thoughts after the Battle of the Black Gate</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>It is over. </em>A truth hard to grasp. <em>We have succeeded. The Ring is unmade. </em>Too long the waiting, too unattainable the goal to embrace this as reality.<em> And I am still alive. </em>This seemed easier to accept, although Aragorn remained vaguely disinterested. Clinging to routine. Adressing his men, and, out of habit, turning to –</p><p>
  <em>He is dead. And I will live.</em>
</p><p>Realization. And with it grief, threatening to overwhelm. It had not seemed to matter so much, when keeping no hope for himself had been a strangely comforting notion after Pelennor Fields.</p><p><em>For </em> <em>I expected to join you soo</em><em>n.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's spring in Eriador and Aragorn is there to enjoy it</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"But my home, such as I have, is in the North" (Aragorn, FOTR)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a mild spring night, the first of this year. The grass is moved by a lazy breeze, stars are dotting the clear night sky. Below the plains of Eriador are stretching out, peacefully, for once.</p><p>Back inside sounds the carefree laughter of the women, the gleeful squeal of a child.</p><p>Soft yellow light is spilling out through the windows into the benign darkness.</p><p>Out here there's the smell of pipe-weed, and a mug of ale. A friend long missed. No need for words, comfort in silence.</p><p>
  <em>my home, such as I have</em>
</p><p>It is good to be back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Happy Birthday Bilbo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's Bilbo's birthday and Aragorn comes to visit his friend and share some good news.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A wee birthday fic that I wrote for shirebound</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"All this is too much fuss over an old hobbit, really," Bilbo said, eyes twinkling, making a sweeping gesture towards the table that was laden with flowers, presents and, most importantly, treats of all imaginable variety. "They even wanted to organize a party for me, but of course I had to decline. I'm getting too old for parties really. Too much fuss, as I've said." He chuckled, "Even the mighty heir of Elendil has graced me with his presence."</p><p>Aragorn smiled indulgently and raised an eyebrow. "Why, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were complaining. I spent my last birthday hunting orcs, unsuccessfully, I might add, nearly freezing to death in a late snowstorm. At the time no one, including me, was even remotely aware of the fact that it was my birthday."</p><p>Bilbo sat down and got his pipe ready, "This sounds like an interesting tale, my friend - one that I insist you will tell in full detail later. But you are decidedly wrong - how could I even think of complaining, with Elrond and his household being so kind to me!"</p><p>There was a short pause as Bilbo drew on his pipe. "Indeed I suppose I should call myself blessed, to celebrate my 125th birthday, and here in Rivendell where none could want for anything. And yet..."</p><p>He stared into the fire for a few moments, then looked up at his friend the Dúnadan. "I can't help but wonder about how things are in the Shire - I haven't heard a great deal of news for some time now. I've been thinking of Frodo the whole day, what with us sharing the same birthday...I suppose I miss him dreadfully, more so on special days like this." He shook his head and smiled wistfully before drawing on his pipe again and blowing a perfect little ring of smoke.</p><p>Aragorn inclined his head. "On days like this it is hard being away from home and our loved ones, no matter whether we're stuck in a snowstorm or celebrating in one of the the most wonderful places in Arda." Mirth shone in his eyes as he continued, "It is very fortunate indeed then that I brought tidings of the Shire as my birthday present to you: Frodo is very well. While travelling through Bree on my way to Imladris I've met some hobbits and had the opportunity to make some enquiries." He laughed, "In fact I have all the latest gossip from the Shire, should you be interested to hear it..."</p><p>"But of course I am - oh, this is splendid news!" Bilbo settled back into his armchair comfortably, his face alighted with joy and excitement. "I want to hear everything! And then I shall tell you the story of my 111th birthday, just before I came here. I don't think you've heard that one yet. Gandalf was there, you know. How the children loved his fireworks!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dark Watch of the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dealing with the aftermath of the Battle of the Pellenor Fields.<br/>Aragorn leaves the Houses of Healing and returns to the Rangers' camp.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Double Drabble </p><p>Character death. Dark/Angst.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dawn was not so far off when the Chieftain of the Dúnedain of the North retreated from the White City and returned to the rangers' camp. Still darkness prevailed, with the stars clouded.</p><p>Duty – as a captain and as a healer – had until now kept him. From this farewell. <em>What have I ever known but duty </em>he reflected bitterly. <em>You, too</em><em>, my friend.</em></p><p>He entered the tent where the Dúnedain had arrayed their dead. There, kneeling beside the one who had been as his brother.<em> I am sorry. I would have come sooner but I have kept you waiting, as I have many times before. And yet you always kept faith with me. </em><em>Trusting </em><em>me, even when I doubted myself.</em></p><p><em>More than duty so.</em> Friendship. Laughter. Clear starry nights in the Angle. Campfires. Shared stories. Seemingly endless rain, too, and horses gone lame. Angry words exchanged and taken back. No words needed at all. <em>I spoke true, when I said that there was none other that I would have beside me in battle, </em><em>n</em><em>or on the day that I made my claim.</em></p><p>Duty would bid him leave, and rest. <em>Not this time.</em><em> I will share this last watch with you.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Morannon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aragorn before the battle of the Morannon.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Drabble.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is morning. The last, maybe. Bleak lands surround them, the great host is eerily quiet. Soon war will be raging loudly yet again. Death and destruction. The Black Gate, symbol of evil, is looming close. Against the Darkness: Rohirrim, men of Gondor, Dúnedain of the North. Hobbit, elf and dwarf. With little hope, least for themselves; but not completely without. <em>Never without hope, not in all those long years, not now. </em>Above, the king's banner is flying, white tree on sable, seven stars and the winged crown.</p><p>His gaze grows distant, turns north. <em>With your hope I will hope.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Yet with your hope I will hope." (Aragorn, ROTK, Appendix A)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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